


Don't Give Me Up

by mggislife2789



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Cancer, F/M, Mentions of Cancer, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 20:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12283428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mggislife2789/pseuds/mggislife2789
Summary: Song is Not About Angels by Birdy.Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry. ;)





	Don't Give Me Up

We know full well there’s just time…  
So is it wrong to dance this line?

You shouldn’t have said yes.

When he had asked you out, you’d never imagined it going anywhere. If you had known this is where you’d be now, you would’ve turned him down - no matter how cute he was. Your survival rate was better than half, but it was still no guarantee, and having to watch Spencer watch you in such pain hurt; on some days it hurt more than the physical aspects of it. 

Stage II endometrial adenocarcinoma. Survival rate 69%. 

“Spence, you should go home,” you whispered, giving his hand a week squeeze as your eyes closed again.

After your radical hysterectomy, you were doped up on painkillers and in and out of sleep. He didn’t need to be here to watch that - to dwell on the possibility that even though you had this done, and were doing to be undergoing radiation therapy and a couple rounds of chemo, there was a chance you might not live a long life. That’s what you wanted for him; you wanted him to marry and have a family with the person he loved, and there was a chance that couldn’t be you.

Your boyfriend returned the gesture. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said simply as he rubbed his fingers against the palm of your hand. 

“Spence…I-this could all be for nothing. I can’t bear to watch you sit there and watch me die.” Your prognosis was pretty okay; the doctors had a lot of hope, and at the start, you had as well, but as the process went on, and you were increasingly more difficult bouts of pain, your hope began to wane.

You’d had this discussion with him before. On the one hand, you were angry that he wouldn’t just walk away. If you were at the end of the line, you didn’t want to risk bringing anyone over the edge with you. But on the other hand, you thanked the gods for giving you someone who loved you enough to stick by you during all this. “Listen to me,” he said softly, sitting up in his chair and bringing my hand to his mouth. “You told me on our second date that this was what you were up against. If I didn’t take you up on that offer after our second date, there’s no way I’m walking away now. I love you too much to let you do this alone.”

“But what if I die, Spence?” With all he’d already been through, this just wasn’t fair. “You’ve been through enough crap for ten lifetimes, and then the world has you fall for someone who might very well be on her way out? How is that fair?” The tears were streaming down my face as I spoke. I was in pain enough; knowing that I was the source of his pain - that was a whole other kind of hell.

“Y/N Y/L/N, I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. I can’t let that go because there’s a risk. I refuse to let cancer take away my ability to love you, whether it be for one year, five years, 10 years, or the rest of our lives. I refuse.”

If your heart was full of love  
Could you give it up?

Standing up from the chair, he placed a kiss atop your head. Your feelings mirrored one another’s. You hadn’t felt about anyone else the way you’d felt about him, and although you wanted him to walk away to save himself, you also didn’t. You had so much love to give, and whether you had the ability to do that for the rest of your life or not, you wanted to love him. Maybe it was selfish of you to want to love him actively, up close, rather than love him enough to let him go, but you didn’t have the strength or will to truly push him out of your life.

“What did I do to deserve you?” You asked, the shuttering breaths evening out as you took deep breath after deep breath.

Gently, he moved you to the edge of the bed so he could sit beside you. “You were you - when I needed you most. That’s why I can’t walk away. And I won’t let you push me.”

Hope and modern medicine were what you had now; you didn’t want to become his angel.

Coz what about, what about angels…  
They will come, they will go and make us special  
Don’t give me up  
Don’t give me up

After you were cleared by your doctor to go ahead in the next stage of your treatment, you were started on Taxol and Carboplatin. Seeing your hair go was the least of your problems. You had a nicely shaped head, and if you were having a really bad day, Spencer had already bought you a beautiful wig. The rest of the side effects were the bitch of it. Nausea and vomiting were pretty commonplace, but those symptoms were curbed with drugs of their own. “I think I’m gonna take a nap,” you said, turning around from the mirror and heading back toward the bedroom. “I’m always tired now. Chemo sucks.”

“Cancer sucks,” he said. You’d practically been living with him lately; he’d been taking care of everything for you. He pulled the covers over you and tucked you in before kissing your bald head. “And the chemo is kicking its ass. Sleep well, my love.”

Nearly two hours later, you woke up, still tired as hell and with a bit of a headache, but you needed to use the bathroom. After doing what you needed to do, you got up and reached for the door handle when an intense chill came over you. “What the fuck?” When you returned to the bedroom, you huddled up in the blanket and sat there in a vain attempt to warm yourself. You were still frozen. 

The slow, dull ache in your head turned to consistent thudding, your eyes closing against the burning heat of the lights in the room, every step outside sending shockwaves through your brain. Even with the nausea medication, the pain was making you sick and you returned to the bathroom. “What’s wrong?” Spencer asked, cracking open the door when he heard you.

“I-I-I’m so cold, and my head,” your own voice hurt grated against you.

There it was - that look of utter fear that you didn’t want to have to see. “We need to go to the emergency room. I’ll call the doctor on the way.”

On the way, the pain in your head intensified; you were going to pass out from the pain - you knew it. Over and over again, you mouthed to yourself. “Don’t give up on me. Don’t give up on me.”

How unfair, it’s just our luck  
Found something real that’s out of touch  
But if you’d searched the whole wide world  
Would you dare to let it go?

“What happened?” You asked when you woke up. “Where am I?”

Your oncologist came seemingly out of nowhere. “You had some bad side effects from the medication, so we started you on cisplatin and doxorubicin, which are the other two drugs we tends to combine for this particular type of cancer.”

Given that you had no family nearby, you’d asked Spencer to make your medical decisions in the event that you couldn’t; he’d already signed off on the drug change, and maybe it was just placebo, but you felt better. 

After being discharged with new drugs, your chemo continued as smoothly as chemo could. You still got nauseous on occasion. Your weight dipped. And you got the dreaded “chemo brain” which shredded your focus, but otherwise, all was well, and Spencer hadn’t left your side the entire time. “I have enough money that I can take off from work for a while,” he insisted. “I’m not leaving you. I won’t let go.”

You could’ve searched the entire world and not have found yourself another Spencer Reid.

It’s not about not about angels, angels

Once the chemo had run its course, radiation was the next and final step before being reevaluated. And then that day came - the day that you’d figure out whether any of this had even worked. As you waited in the doctor’s office, Spencer’s hand tucked firmly in yours, you leaned against his shoulder. “How are you feeling?” He asked.

“I’m scared,” you replied. “I want to hope, but…I’m afraid…”

When the doctor walked in, we both sat up straight. You wanted to hear the answer, and yet it was the last thing you wanted to hear. “Ms. Y/L/N, I’m pleased to tell you that you have a clean bill of health.”

Sobs wracked your body as the doctor continued to tell the two of you that there was no trace of anything left in your system. “We’ll be doing followups ever three to six months for the next several years. There are going to be some things that you need to look out for, but Y/N, we caught it fairly early, and you’re going to be okay. You have a long life to live.”

Five years later…

Don’t give me up  
Don’t give me up

“Ella!” You called. “It’s time for dinner!”

The little four-year-old walked from the living room and into the kitchen, reaching her arms up. “Wash.” She needed to wash her hands before dinner. After she was done, she sat at the table. “Is Daddy home yet?”

“Almost, sweetpea.” After obtaining your clean bill of health, Spencer had wasted no time. You married in a small ceremony six months later, and a year after that, you were cleared my a local adoption agency to take Ella home.

Just as you strained the spaghetti, Spencer walked in the door. “Daddy!” Ella cried. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, angel. How are my two favorite girls?” Leaning in, he kissed before showering your daughter with kisses. 

As he sat down at the table, you smiled at your husband asking your daughter what 2+2 was. Whether or not she was biologically your child, Spencer was sure she was a genius. It was such a simple picture. A husband and wife in the kitchen talking with their four-year-old daughter. But to you it was enormous; it was a picture you’d never had the privilege of living out had you given up on each other all those years ago.


End file.
